We the Battlefield
by RiverDapple
Summary: AU - The first Wizarding War is being waged around the world, and is fought not only with magic, but with spies and secrets and soldiers. It is fought not only on battlefields, but in the mind. The Order of the Phoenix is leading the charge, among their number the infamous Dumbledore's Army - Oneshot series.


_A note about the world that this story is set in: _

_It is set in the late 70's to early 80's, during the first Wizarding War. Harry is not the chosen one. He and his friends (Dumbledore's Army) fight for the Order of the Phoenix on several fronts across Europe, North Africa and North America._

_This is a oneshot series - all the pieces to follow will follow the same characters in the same world, but they won't be chronological. At this stage, I can't even say which ships will be present in the various pieces._

* * *

**January 14****th****, 1979** – _**London, England  
**_

Ginny took a deep drag from her cigarette, and tipped her head back. The smoke billowed into the air, a mimicry of the steam that came from the mouths of every other chilled pedestrian striding across the bridge.

"Smoking kills, you know," said a voice from behind her. Ginny didn't need to turn around to see it was.

"Hermione," she greeted the other girl, taking another drag.

"There have been studies recently, and the results really do show very clearly that –"

"Smoking is really the least of my worries right now." The red-head turned to face her companion, fixing her with a beady eye. "Of all the things that can and will kill me if given the chance, I really am not inclined to be scared of small white tubes."

Hermione frowned, but didn't push her case. Ginny was right, after all – of all the things in the world to be afraid of, which were very real and very dangerous, a hypothetical death of lung cancer from a time-killing vice really was the least of their worries. Instead she came to stand beside Ginny, leaning against the balustrade, looking out across the Thames. It was its usual dark icy grey colour, mirroring the sky above.

Around them, muggles went about their daily business, unaware that a secret war was being waged.

"How's Harry?" Hermione asked after a comfortable, contemplative silence in which Hermione admired the scenery she saw every day and Ginny did the same whilst smoking. "We haven't seen him in awhile."

"He's fine, all things considered," Ginny replied. She dropped the stub of her cigarette at her feet and crushed the smouldering remains with her toe. "It was the anniversary of Lily's death yesterday."

Hermione made a sympathetic noise in the back of her throat, and Ginny shook her head sadly. "Three years – it _feels_ like such a long time, but it isn't. Not really."

"We were sixteen, that winter," Hermione sighed, knotting her hands neatly together. "Well – you were fifteen. Harry, Ron and I were sixteen."

"It was just a shock, I suppose. None of us could comprehend it at first, the night she died," Ginny sighed quietly. She reached into her pocket, pulling out a wrapped lozenge, which she unwrapped and slid into her mouth. "Still can't. Harry's a fighter – he worked through his grief, and it makes him a better man because of it."

"She was so young," Hermione shook her head, curls falling into her eyes. "That's the worst part – it bothered Harry, too. When we first heard, the first thing he said was 'she was too young to die'."

Ginny snorted, and Hermione looked over at her curiosity.

"What?"

"She was thirty seven."

"That's young!" Hermione protested, unsure as to where exactly Ginny was going with her point.

"I'm just saying... when you were sixteen and I was fifteen, we thought _thirty seven_ was too young to die. Now we're out here, fighting Lily's war, and James', and we're not even _twenty_. If _Lily_ was too young to die, what does that make us?"

Hermione didn't have an answer.

"I've never thought of it like that," she said at last. "I suppose it doesn't matter. Age. How old you are when you...when you die. How old we are now."

Ginny snorted dryly. "Yeah. It's worth it, isn't it?" Her face was twisted up into a dark scowl, and Hermione felt the urge to look away. However, she retained eye contact, because what Ginny was saying was _important_, and it was _true_. "If we die, it's so more people can live. We risk our lives by even _existing_, just so all of these people," she gestured at the muggles walking across the bridge behind them "can continue to live in peace. It's all worth it. It has to be."

Hermione didn't vocalise her reply – instead, she rested her hand upon the younger girls shoulder. Ginny closed her eyes briefly, and when she opened them again the air of a determined young woman had returned.

"How are things at this end?" she asked, changing the subject. Hermione shrugged.

"Things are getting serious. Dumbledore's in at the ministry every other day, and they want Tonks, Ron and I whenever they can. Officially we're not important, but Merlin - they know that we're out there fighting, that we know more than them."

"How can you tell?"

"That they know we're in the order?"

"Yeah."

Hermione shrugged. "It's hard to tell. It's potentially dangerous information – Dumbledore's not impressed that the higher ups know who we are. Makes it all the more dangerous if the ministry's infiltrated. They don't know about everyone, though."

"You said Tonks, Ron and you – Dumbledore must have told them something, it's you three that go abroad most often."

"That's probably right," Hermione nodded, but she was biting her lip. Being in a secret order fighting against the world's most powerful dark wizard was one thing, but having the ministry of magic know about it was quite another. She changed the subject. "How's things your end?"

"Things really aren't going very well in Algeria at the moment," Ginny said, shaking her head and rubbing at her temple as though a headache has suddenly sprung up there. "We're all stressed as hell, and it's not exactly safe there for muggles _or_ wizards, but there's nothing new about that, though, is there?"

She smirked across at Hermione, who smiled back.

Oh, how far the world had come. Wars and espionage and magic – a decade ago, she'd been playing outside with her neighbours and reading as many books as she could get her hands on. She'd been ordinary. And then came Hogwarts, and the Order, and now the war.

"How's Ron?" Ginny asked after a beat.

Hermione shrugged one shoulder. "I don't know. He's been in Prague for a week. I haven't heard from him."

Ginny frowned. Resting one elbow on the railing, she turned to face Hermione fully. Hermione mirrored her, and analysed the younger girls face.

She was only a year Hermione's junior, but she looked older. At nineteen she already had a permanent crease in her forehead from frowning too much – but there were faint laughter lines fanning out from the corners of her eyes, too.

"That's worrying," she said. "You don't think..."

Hermione shook her head vehemently, curly bouncing madly.

"No, I'm sure he's fine and reporting regularly back to the Ministry, or at least Dumbledore. It's just that _I_ haven't heard anything from him."

"Ah," Ginny nodded in understanding, raising an eyebrow. "Lovers' quarrel?"

Hermione flushed. "I...no, we just..."

Ginny was smiling open now, clearly enjoying Hermione's fluster. "We're just taking a break, at the moment. From our relationship. We just need...a break." At last Hermione managed to form a coherent sentence.

Ginny laughed through her nose and punched Hermione lightly on the shoulder.

"Nah, I get it. I really do. I mean, if I had to live with my brother all day every day ... oh wait!"

Both girls laughed, and Hermione thought privately how nice it was to be able to still chat amiably with an old friend, despite everything that was going on in the world around them.

"I had to take _plenty_ of breaks when I was still living in a house with that ass. Don't worry, he'll get over himself sooner and later and you'll both be back to normal."

Hermione thanked her friend, but she did wonder if that were really true. Things hadn't been right between her and Ron for while now, and a small dark part of her mind whispered that she didn't really mind. Not when there was...

Suddenly, her train of thought crashed, as Ginny whirled around, one hand instinctively sliding into her pocket. Hermione mirrored her.

"What is it?" she asked, voice low.

"I could have sworn I just saw Rowle," Ginny said quietly. Hermione felt as if someone had dropped an ice cube down her back – but at the same time, she wasn't surprised.

"Give me the photographs," she said. "We are probably being watched."

"Watched," Ginny said darkly. "And hunted."

She slid her other hand up her coat, emerging with a small manila packet which she handed to Hermione.

"Take these straight to headquarters. Burn them. Apparate."

"Are you crazy?" Hermione hissed as she tucked the precious photographs into her bra. "There are muggles everywhere!"

"I'll distract them," Ginny replied with a shrug. Hermione watched in trepidation as Ginny slid her want out of pocket and pointed it at the other side of the bridge. She whispered an incantation, and there was a deafening bang.

On the river, a barge had just caught fire. Everyone on the bridge rushed to the side, pointing and jabbering. Hermione and Ginny exchanged a brief glance and, having not the time to say goodbye, Hermione turned on the spot and vanished into this air.

* * *

Had anyone been watching Ginny, they would have seen her slide her wand up her sleeve and slink away across the bridge in the opposite direction to that which she had arrived from. They would have seen her jog down the steps into a crowded underground station and vanish into the crowds milling about waiting for trains. They would have seen a flash of her red hair as she boarded the train for Stone Cross, and sit in the back corner. They wouldn't have missed the way her eyes darted everywhere.

The man who was following her saw it all. Hidden by a disillusionment charm, he was invisible as long as he stood still – and as long as no one got too close to him.

Ginny was headed for a rough part of town, where she would then take a portkey back to Algiers. Of course, Thorfinn wouldn't let her get that far.

At the next stop, an elderly woman with a cart of shopping exited the train. As she left, however, she nudged him just slightly. The slight shift wouldn't have been noticed by anyone who wasn't looking – but Ginny was. Damn.

She was on her feet instantly, but he was one step ahead of her.

The stunning jinx missed her by an inch as she dived sideways. The three muggles on the train screamed and yelled, completely and stupidly unaware of what was going on. One of them – a young woman with purple hair, began to charge in a panic. As Ginny sent a hex his way, he dodged and flicked a killing curse at the irritating young woman, who fell, silent. The other muggles on the train cowered.

Thorfinn was hit by a jinx, and his heart seized in terror, but all that happened was that his disillusionment melted away. Ah, well. All for the better.

Ginny was snarling as she danced back and forth, twirling her wand as she sent one jinx after another at him. She was quick, he'd give her that. He aimed another killing curse at her but it missed, shattering the glass in the back door. Instantly, the compartment was filled with a deafening roar of the train as it sped through the tunnels.

One of Ginny's spells ricocheted off of a pole and smashed another window, and sparks flew out in the darkness. Thorfinn snarled.

His next curse was the cruciatus, but that too missed, this time hitting one of the muggles. He writhed in pain, screaming, and Thorfinn shot a killing curse at him just to _shut _him _up_.

This was his fatal mistake. Losing concentration for just a second meant that Ginny was able to hit him directly with a full body bind.

As he fell, he swore internally. His wand rolled away under the seat, and he saw Ginny looming over him.

"Not this time, Rowle," she said coldly, and smirked. She _smirked_. The filthy blood traitor, he would –

Ginny raised his wand, and a bright green light was the last thing that he ever saw.

* * *

Ginny looked around. The train was a minute away from the next station, and there were three dead. But first – the muggle. She turned to the last remaining woman, who was cowering in her seat with her hands over her face, sobbing.

Ginny placed one hand on her shoulder, but she shied away so violently that she cracked her head on the window.

"Get away from me," she hissed, pupils dilated in terror. "You...monster!"

"I'm so sorry," Ginny said quietly, raising her wand.

"_Obliviate_."

The muggle's eyes become unfocused, and Ginny sighed again.

But she had to move quickly now.

"_Reducio...Reducio...Reducio._" She shrank the three bodies, tucking them into her pocket. It made her feel sick, knowing that there were three dead people _in her pocket_, and two of them were innocent.

But this was war, and she had seen and done much worse. Ginny pointed her wand again at the last remaining woman. The extra hundred pounds now in her purse was nothing near the compensation the woman deserved, but it was all that Ginny could do.

Lastly, she flicked repairing charms at the broken windows as the train slowed. It had barely stopped before Ginny was off the train.

She strode quickly through the run-down streets to the abandoned lot behind a block of dingy flats. Here, she removed the three bodies and returned them to their normal size. It would baffle the muggle authorities, certainly...but didn't everything, these days? Ginny only hoped that the two muggles would receive a proper burial, and that they wouldn't be inducted to the Inferi Army by You-Know-Who-The-Fuck-Else.

Ginny walked a few hundred metres to where an old tyre was glowing faintly blue. With a lurch behind her belly-button, she was gone.

* * *

Upon arrival at the doorstep of Number 12, Grimmauld Place, Hermione was greeted by a cacophony in the foyer. Mrs Black's portrait was screaming the top of her lungs, Tonks was setting right the troll's foot umbrella stand, and Molly was screeching at Mundungus at decibels loud enough to rival even Mrs Black.

Just another normal day, then.

"Hermione!" Tonks greeted her, looking over her shoulder. "Wotcher! Have you got them?"

"Indeed," Hermione said, raising her wand and aiming a spell at the wailing portrait. With a bang, the curtains closed.

"Come on down to the kitchen then – Molly's a bit busy right now, as you can see, but the others are down there."

Hermione followed Tonks down the stairs. Molly didn't even notice her, she was so busy ripping into Mundungus. Something about cauldrons...?

In the kitchen, Sirius and Minerva were tensely discussing something or other, whilst Hestia, Sturgis and Remus were all reading a different section of the Daily Prophet. On a second glance, Hermione saw that Sturgis' section was in French. _La_ Daily Prophet, then.

All five of them looked up when she entered – the only remotely warm greeting she received was from Hestia, who beamed broadly.

"I got the photographs from Ginny," said Hermione, sitting down and removing them. She opened the packet and slid it across the table to Minerva. "I didn't get to talk to Ginny for long – she thought we were being watched by Rowle. I agreed, so she gave me the photographs and blew up a barge on the Thames so I could apparate away. I can't say I approved, but..."

"She blew up a _barge_?" Lupin asked, leaning forward incredulously.

"Well, no, she didn't blow it up, per se... she just blew _part_ of it up."

"Let's just add that to the long, long list of damages that have occurred as collateral damage then, shall we?" said Sturgis wryly.

Tonks laughed, but Hermione just frowned.

Collateral damage. It was unavoidable, but that didn't make it any easier to face. The wizarding world was hidden, as it had been for centuries, so this war, too, was secret. The muggles didn't know...they _couldn't _know. Bad and unexplainable things kept happening, and they never _would_ be explainable.

Collateral damage was not something that Hermione was comfortable with.

"If Rowle was watching you," said Minerva from the other end of the table, where she had arranged the photographs in front of her. "Then these were all for nothing – You Know Who is aware that you know, now, and these plans will have change."

"If Rowle was watching, he would have followed Ginny," Hermione pretended that she was sure. "And Ginny would have noticed, and dealt with him – a memory charm, I suppose."

"No," said Sirius suddenly, his deep voice gruffer than usual. "Ginny's more thorough than that. She'd kill him."

"How long ago did this...barge explosion occur?" asked Lupin, turning away from Sirius and looking at Hermione again.

"I'm not sure – probably less than ten minutes ago."

At that moment, the kitchen door opened, and Molly came down the stairs. She was frowning, but she smiled the instant she saw Hermione.

"Hermione! When did you get here?"

"Just now," she said, and was rewarded with a kiss on the cheek.

"I just received a letter from Ron this morning," Molly said over her shoulder as she walked to the sink, filling the kettle with water and setting it on the stove. "He said to say he misses you."

"Oh," Hermione said quietly, pretending to smile, but she really wanted to slam her fists down on the table. She wanted to scream that _he could have just told her that himself_, that _he_ _may be a big bad dark wizard catcher, but Ronald Weasley is a _coward!

"So, what we can we learn from those photographs?" Sturgis changed the subject, turning to face Minerva.

"That Death Eaters are involved in the uprisings – and certain political leaders are under the influence of the imperious curse." She picked up a picture of a dark man with a machine gun. Behind him was a tall woman that they all recognised, despite the hijab over her head. Bellatrix Lestrange was recognisable anywhere. In the picture, she was replacing her wand in the pocket of her robes, and the man's eyes were glazed.

"Not much good for us, though," said Sirius, taking another picture from the table and glaring at it. "It's all very well and good to know, but it's not our problem. This is why we have people in North Africa. It's their problem."

"We need to stay informed," Hermione told him. "And to stay informed and to get one over on You Know Who, we need to know what he's doing. _Everywhere_."

"I know that," Sirius was glaring at her now. "But –"

At that moment, a patronus materialised on the table in front of them. A giant silvery horse dominated the table. Hestia received such a fright that she toppled over backwards, and would have hit the floor had Sturgis not grabbed her just in time.

"_Dueled and killed Rowle on underground. Two muggles dead. Am safe in Algiers._"

The patronus dissolved, and Sirius looked across at Hermione pointedly.

"I told you she'd kill him," was all he said.


End file.
